Elevator Music
by mcr07
Summary: Brendon Urie X Ryan Ross, It's a four Parter! 'Have you noticed that as it moves it gives you a weird feeling in your stomach? I have, but that could have something to do with the boy that was pushing me against the wall....' Disclaimer: This is not Real
1. Elevator Music

_Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction, and never happened, I do not know, or own the people included in this story, it is written for entertainment purposes only, and I gain no profit from writing such things._

Elevator Music

Elevators, they're cramped, there are usually always embarrassing situations, and _everyone_ is always so quiet bar the occasional cough and sneeze.

Then you get the music, that music that says 'we'll be there soon' it basically _echoes_ it. Nobody really likes it, they just _have _to put up with it, they wouldn't want to risk taking the long, aching, walk down the stairs.

Have you noticed that as it moves it gives you a weird feeling in your stomach? I have, but that could have something to do with the boy that was pushing me against the wall, the boy whose mouth was clamped to mine in a wet, all tongue and teeth kiss.

I was just stood in there, waiting, waiting. Then _ping_, door opens, in steps a person, just the usual shoe squeaking, brief case carrying suit. But rewind there, door opens, in steps a boy, short spiky dark hair, jeans, tee shirt, not the usual business attire. Who knows, maybe it's 'jeans for genes day.'

"Hi," rewind again, god forbid someone _speaks_ in this thing, disturbing the music. I look to my right, where this boy has stood himself, he's smiling, his hand moves in a half circle as he sees me look at him.

"Hi," I mumble, smiling slightly when he grins.

"I hate these things," he says, eyes looking me up and down making me feel self conscious. "It's always so..."

"Awkward?" I offer, he smiles and nods enthusiastically, he nods so much in fact that it looks like his head is about to _fall_ off.

"Yea awkward," he smiles again, and I swear my knees buckle the slightest bit. I grip onto the hand bar, and cough. "You okay?" He asks eyeing me suspiciously, "are you gonna chuck?"

I shake my head, laughing slightly, "no, I'm not." God forbid someone _vomits_ in the elevator. "So I haven't seen you here before," I say, moving to stand up straight, and pulling my jacket tighter around my torso.

"I stayed at a friends last night," he replies, hands in pockets as he swings his body round to talk me.

"Cool," I say nodding slightly, then there's the awkward silence. Well it feels awkward to me, but I can see him in my peripheral vision, humming and rocking back and forth on his heels. His cheeks puffing out every so often, as he tries to pass the time.

It's when I'm watching him that the elevator makes a cracking sound, and halts to a sharp stop. We both jut forward, and fall against the wall. I flop down onto the floor, nursing my head that I've just hit against the wall. I hear a groan and look up to see him standing there, eyebrows furrowed as his hand wipes at his lips and then he looks at it.

"Fuck," he mutters looking at me, eyes wide, I stand to my feet, worried.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, the words coming out in a bubble in their haste.

"My lips bleeding," he says looking up at me, there's not much height difference but you can tell he's shorter than me. He's pouting, I look at his lips, and it's a good set of lips I have to say.

"I think I've got a tissue," I say rolling my eyes, I was genuinely _worried_, and for what? A bleeding lip. I bend down to my bag, that I'd dropped and search through it. Bringing out the pocket sized pack of Kleenex I hand him one, well try to.

He just juts his bottom lip out and leans towards me, sighing I bunch the tissue up, and placing my left hand on the side of his face- to steady his head- I use my right hand with the tissue to pat at the blood forming in a bubble on his bottom lip.

I hold it there for a minute or so, I swear he keeps moving closer, which makes me take a step back. I'm close to hitting the wall, and the elevator still isn't working, I move the tissue and he smiles. I couldn't help it, I didn't' mean to do it just…_happened._

Because the next thing I know, I'm leaning forward the small distance and pressing my lips to his, in a quick kiss. And this so isn't _me,_ I don't _kiss_ people I know, let alone _strangers._

But I can't help but comply when he pushes back, and back until the hand bar is digging into my spine. I let out a groan of discomfort, and he pulls away, and I _whimper_, I want the contact back, I _need_ the contact back.

"Sorry," he mutters looking down, and I panic, I'm practically having a panic attack as I wheeze out.

"No, the bar, it was in my back." And his head moves up slowly, his gaze meets mine and I smile, and he smirks, oh god he _smirks_.

Then he moves back and kisses me, this time pushing me towards the back wall, the wall where there is no hand bar.

And it's all teeth, tongue, and lust, I don't even know this kids name, and yet there's _lust _and_ passion,_ and all those amazing things_._

My lips are tingling as I push back against his plump ones, his hands moving to my hips, as I knot mine in the back of his hair. I can hear him panting, this beautiful creature is _panting,_ and it's all _my_ doing.

I pull back and smile, "Ryan," I say, he looks confused for a split second as his head cocks to the side slightly, and then he smiles.

"Brendon," he replies, I smile back, Brendon, that's nice. And then his kissing me feverishly again, and I can't help but gasp, and moan in the back of my throat, as his tongue flicks the top of my mouth, and scrapes against my own. And I'm not so sure if his lip is actually _hurting_, if he's kissing me like this.

When we both pull back, we're panting and the elevator, is moving, _thank god._ But I don't want to go yet, I'm not ready to leave. Screw work, this could be a possible chance at a decent love life here.

"Where you off to?" He asks like we haven't just been making out for about ten minutes, and it _hurts,_ I feel like he's _rejecting_ me.

"Work," I mumble straightening out my shirt, and dusting off my pants.

"Cool, where'd you work?" He asks, hands back in his pockets, and bouncing back and forth again.

"The local bookshop," and I blush, because for the life of me I can't remember that damn shops _name._ "Why?" I ask, interested as to why he wants this information.

"Cause I wanna see you again." He says winking as the elevator door opens, and he walks out turning to smile. I'm in a daze, until my eyes blink and I'm scrambling for the open door button, because, yea, just my luck the doors are starting to close.

And off to work I go, excuses flitting my mind, because really I can't just say, 'the elevator stopped, and I made out with a cute guy called Brendon, and he knows I work here, oh look he's over there, hi Brendon.' Okay maybe I'll just go for 'the elevator stopped.'


	2. Books and Coffee

_Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction, and never happened, I do not know, or own the people included in this story, it is written for entertainment purposes only, and I gain no profit from writing such things._

Books and Coffee

It's pouring outside, and I'm stuck at the counter. I'm leaning against the wall near the till reading.

"Excuse me?" I look up from my book and smile warmly at the woman in front of me, I'd say she's in her mid thirties, bleached blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, handfuls of bags, and ah kids. Two of the little tikes around the age of, I'd guess 6 or 7, are running around picking up books, and eugh I don't want to think about the brown stuff on there hands.

I grimace as one of the kids picks up a copy of Harry Potter- and those books are heavy- then he lobs it at the other kid. I close my eyes momentarily _waiting_ for the shrill cry but it doesn't come, when I open my eyes I see the mother holding a pack of skittles enticing them to behave, yea they're hyper so feed 'em more sweets! Idiot, you can probably tell, I'm having a bad day, it's like male PMSing.

"Sorry," she says inhaling as she watches the two boys sit down and devour the bag of sugar coated sweets. "I was wondering do you have 'It' by Steven King?" She asks, smiling nicely at me, and I _shudder_, because I have a great fear of clowns, they're just so, ah!

I nod and put my book down, marking my page with an old receipt and then asking her to follow me; I walk to the fiction side of the store and direct her in the direction of where all Steven King novels are. She thanks me and I nod, returning to the counter. I pick up the small notebook on the cash register, and I put another line on the tally under my name. Yea our boss wants to know how many times we help a customer, so every time I help one I have to add another line to the tally.

I grab my book and resume my reading; it's not long before I'm interrupted again by a loud _thud_ as a book is more or less _dropped_ onto the counter. I breathe in, service with a smile, remember service with a smile. I look up with a smile, except there's no one there, I lean over the counter and there are those kids looking up at me and _giggling_.

I roll my eyes and look at the book they've deposited on the counter, and it's some kind of karma sutra book I didn't even know we sold.

"I don't think you kids should be looking at these kinds of books," I say taking the book and placing it on the shelf under the counter, they grin, showing gappy teeth and then waddle off to find they're mum. Sighing I rub my temples, "god I should get paid more." Then I think about what I really _do_, which isn't much, I pretty much read for the duration of my shift, and reading has always been something I've been fond of, so it's not anything bad.

I serve the woman and her kids, and am thankful when the kids wave goodbye and they leave, the shop restored to its normal quiet state.

_Toronto, 1967_

_Bob looked at the younger in his wife's arms. For a second he thought about another country, and another child…no. he stopped himself as he stroked the baby's warm red cheek. That was another time, another place. That was Wolverhampton Bob Worthington. This Bob Worthington had made a new life for himself in Toronto._

_He stayed at the hospital for a few hours, then, exhausted but elated after sitting up all night, took the long drive home out to the suburbs. All the houses were different in this street, not like the mass-built redbrick slums he'd come from, yet a strange air of uniformity still pervaded his district. He parked the car in the narrow driveway outside the garage._

I tear myself away from my book to look up when I smell the strong smell of coffee, looking at the counter I see a starbucks cup. My eyebrow arcs in curiosity as I look up at the person standing on the other side of the counter, a smile flits onto my face as I look into Brendon's eyes.

"Hey," he says doing that same half circle wave like he did in the elevator. "Hope I'm not disturbing you, I bought you coffee." He says picking up the cup and extending it towards me.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I played it safe and went for cappuccino." He smiles, and I take the cup nodding. I've never thought of cappuccino as a safe option, but whatever it's a nice gesture.

"That's great, thanks," I sip at the warm liquid, and oh _god_ it tastes good, closing my eyes in satisfaction I hear him laugh.

"I guess I played well then," I nod opening my eyes, and smiling, and then his face turns slightly serious and he leans towards me more. "If I take you on a date and I play my cards right then, will you consider kissing me like you did in the elevator?" And I cough, I wasn't expecting that, and I'm blushing, I'm more than sure he can see it.

I nod as he looks at me worriedly, "yea I'd like that." I say between coughs, he grins and then leans his arm on the counter. After I regain my composure he talks.

"So, when and where?" He asks, dragging out the 'h' on where.

"Up to you," I reply shrugging.

"Okay, I think I've got an idea, let's swap numbers." He says, I nod and we exchange numbers, he draws a little stick man on the paper and I laugh, because it's riding a bike.

"So, what you reading?" He asks glancing at the book I'd put page down on the counter, I pick up the book and show him the cover.

"It's called Ecstasy by Irvine Welsh, good book. Bit pornographic in some places, and it does have a necrophiliac that's also a pedophile in it." He gives me a strange look, "its three tales of a chemical romance." And then he makes an 'oh' sound while nodding.

"I've heard that somewhere," he says looking up thoughtfully.

"You know the band My Chemical Romance," he looks at me confused. "Been around a couple of years, they're from New Jersey," he then nods in realization.

"What do they have to do with the book?" And he's got that confused look on his face again.

"They got their name from this book, three tales of a _chemical romance_." And he nods, a smile plastered on his face.

"Cool, so what, it's like three stories in one book?" I nod and turn to the contents page of the book, before reading aloud.

"Yea, A Rave and Regency Romance, A corporate Drug Romance and An Acid House Romance." I finish putting the book down on the counter closed, and then mentally kicking myself for losing my page.

"Cool, I may have to read that sometime." He says standing up straight and nodding, I laugh because in all honesty he looks like an idiot, he smiles back, and _god_ when he smiles like that it makes my knees go weak, cliché much?

"When do you finish your shift?" He asks me glancing at the clock on the nearby wall, I look too and work out how long I've got.

"Ooo fifteen minutes," I say smiling.

"Cool, you wanna go on our date tonight then?"

"Yea okay," I reply smiling, we talk and we discuss, and then my boss is walking over to me, basically shooing me out of the shop.

"Bye Ryan, go home." He shouts mockingly as he closes and locks the door to the shop after I've grabbed my bag and jacket and my book.

"Is he always like?" Brendon asks, pointing a thumb in the direction of the shop, I nod.

"Yea, he has a strange sense of humor," I say pulling a face, and shoving my book into my bag, and then proceeding to put my coat on and sling my bag over my shoulder.


	3. Dates in Unexpected Places

_Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction, and never happened, I do not know, or own the people included in this story, it is written for entertainment purposes only, and I gain no profit from writing such things._

Dates in unexpected places

We're walking along the street and _thank god_ it's not pouring like it was earlier, it took me like 20 minutes to straighten my hair this morning, _20 minutes_ I could have spent that time doing something else, like reading.

I don't know where we're going, and that unnerves me, I _want_ to know, I _like_ knowing these things. But no, every time I causally ask, Brendon simply laughs, he _laughs_, if I wanted him to laugh at me, I'd tell a joke, but I didn't tell a joke, so he shouldn't_ laugh_.

Okay, so maybe I'm a little…paranoid, or even bitchy, but it's not my fault, I swear. Wait, I'm blaming someone else, oh my I'm becoming my uncle, eugh, it is my fault.

Except I don't _actually_ believe that.

"Ryan?" I snap my eyes to Brendon's when I hear him say my name.

"Yea," I say, stopping and standing in front of him.

"I said we're here," he says gesturing to the building I'm standing next to. I look up and we're by some shabby apartment complex, erm _why?_

"And where is here?" I ask, smiling nicely as I fold my hands in front of my waist.

"Here," Brendon smiles, _tell me,_ gah I hate secrets.

"Fine, if you're going to be like that," I say walking towards the door to the building.

"Like what?" He questions, eyebrows raised.

"Not telling me where we are," I supply looking around.

"If I told you it would rui-"

"Quit yapping, start acting," I interject; he frowns at me then smiles and opens the door. I walk in and look around, it's kind of scruffy. But this is coming from a kid whose rich father pays his rent, I bet Brendon's at least independent.

"I know it's not much, but y'know it's home." He says, as I follow him up the staircase. I nod and make noises of affirmation, just so he knows I'm listening. By the time we get to the third floor, my knees are aching and my shoulder is killing me from the weight of my bag. I never realized how unhealthy I was, I mean sure I'm pretty thin, stick thin even, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm healthy.

Brendon stops outside a door and smiles; he looks fine, like he's just had a long rest. He then turns to the door and unlocks it, ushering me in and taking my bag from me, which I'm very grateful for, I doubt I would have been able to lift the thing.

"So, I know this isn't much of a date, but you showed me one of your passions- reading- so I wanted to show you one of mine." He says, as he carelessly tosses his jacket in the general direction of the couch, I watch as it misses terribly and clunks to the floor.

"That would be my phone," he says bending down slightly as if the realization was a pain in the ribs. I laugh, and instead of throwing, I drape my jacket on the back of the sofa. The lounge is quite large; there are two doors along the right wall, which I'm assuming are the bathroom and bedroom. Then there's a kitchen which basically sees over the lounge, and a wall opposite that, that's jutting out.

"So what do you want to show me?" I ask turning to face Brendon, his eyes lift upwards and he smiles.

"Follow me," he gestures, so I do. We walk up to the wall that's jutting out and behind it is a piano.

"You play?" I ask, he nods and then sits down on the long stall, patting the space next to him, gingerly I sit down on his right, my hands curl into fists by my neck, I really don't want to break anything.

"It's okay," he says pushing my hands down from their position, he then lets go of one of my hands, and uncurls the fingers of my right hand. "It won't break that easily," he says as he pushes my index finger on one of the keys. "That's a C just so you know," he grins and I move my hands and fold them in my lap, as he flexes his fingers over the keyboard.

"I'm not amazing, but I borderline on questionably insane." He smirks, as his fingers ghost over the keys, I wonder what they're made out of, and it's obviously not plastic. He then brings his fingers down on the keys, creating a soft melody, it sounds _amazing._

He plays for a few minutes and then stops; he stays still for a second before turning slightly on the stool to face me, his knee tapping mine as he moves. "So?" He asks biting his bottom lip slightly, and then flinching as his tooth touches the healing cut on his lip.

"Amazing, and is that still sore?" I ask motioning to his lip, he nods.

"Not so much sore, as…tender," he replies, smiling. "You really think it was that good?" he asks, I drag my gaze away from his lips, and nod tentatively.

"It really is, you really are." I say surprising myself when the words leave my mouth, but he just smiles.

"This is my passion," he says standing up and outstretching his arms. "Music," I look around at the different instruments lined up against the wall, and _god_ is he a talented boy.

He then sits back down, and lifts my hands from my lap. "You can play; it doesn't even have to sound good, just press a few keys, and see where it takes you." He smiles encouragingly as he lets go of my hands, leaving them hovering above the keys.

I flex my fingers slightly, and then press down on the keys, grimacing when it makes an awful sound, I look to Brendon and he just smiles. Smiling back, I sit up straighter and just press random keys listening to the pitch of them, working out in my head which ones would sound good next to each other. Pressing the keys tentatively I start to make up my own tune, it sounds okay, not great, just mediocre.

"What are the keys made of?" I ask as I stop playing, and just press one key- which Brendon told me was C- and I drag out the note as he thinks for a second, when it looks like he's going to talk, I stop pressing the key to be considerate.

"I think they're made of ivory," and I jump up off the stool, and step back.

"Ivory? You just had me touching some dead elephants tusk." I say as I step back, Brendon frowns and stands up as well.

"It's an old piano, they used to use ivory for 'em, besides sounds better than those new plastic keyed ones." He says as he turns to walk the short distance to the kitchen. "Want a drink?" He asks as he lets the tap run, and goes to a cupboard to get something out.

"Brendon, we're talking about the fact you have part of a dead elephant in your house, and you're talking about drinks!" I practically yell, he just shrugs and leans his hands on the counter.

"It was my grandfathers piano, so I'm hardly gonna get rid of it am I? He gave it to me, _me_, I didn't even want it, and he gave it to me." And I feel fucking guilty, he's looking down, like he's upset, and he said _was_, does that mean his grandfathers dead?

"I'm sorry Brendon; I just think that stuffs cruel." I say sincerely, softly.

"So do I, but it's an amazing piano." He mumbles, and then his head shoots up and he's smiling. "You play pretty well, have you played before?" And he's changed like that, in an _instant _I'm shocked slightly at the change and stutter before I force out an intelligible answer.

"I play guitar, I know how to use my hands." That is not the best way to put it, I blush as the once innocent sentence washes over me, and I digest what I've just said. Brendon smirks and walks over to me, handing me a glass of water.

"I'd like to see that," he says, sipping his drink, I clutch the drink for dear life because what does he mean? Does he want to see me play guitar, or use my _hands?_

"Err, whuh?" I stutter out, and suddenly the room has got a whole lot hotter, or is that just me?

He laughs, and I laugh nervously along with him, then he stops abruptly. "I don't mind, you can either show me your guitar playing skills or we could take this to the bedroom." He smirks, and his smirk is _amazing_, but I'm not ready for that so I tell him, in a way I'm sure he won't feel offended.

"Losing points on those cards Bren," he goes to talk and then looks at me, smirks, _then_ talks.

"I was joking, _Ry_," I shake my head laughing slightly, I then place my glass down on the kitchen counter, that's opposite the piano.

"Hand me a guitar," I say as I sit on a stall next to the piano, Brendon nods and grabs an acoustic off a stand not far from me, and then he extends it to me. I nod my thanks and play the first thing that comes in to my head, that just so happens to be a song I've been writing. And the whole date is spent teaching each other techniques, voicing our opinions on songs we've written, Brendon listens to the song I've written, and there's something missing, and he gives me the missing part and the song just sounds _complete._

It gets to eleven o'clock and I bid him goodnight, declining his offers of the couch for a bed. I walk home in the darkening night, happy, because he _definitely_ played his cards right tonight.


	4. Magazines, Perms and Proper Dates

_Disclaimer: This is a story of fiction, and never happened, I do not know, or own the people included in this story, it is written for entertainment purposes only, and I gain no profit from writing such things._

Magazines, Perms and Proper Dates

It's Monday, and I haven't seen Brendon since Friday, when I went round his house. I hadn't _expected_ to go to his apartment for our date, but it was fun, I enjoyed myself. He even said himself that wasn't meant to be the date, but the time just…_flew_.

I'm not on tills today, which sucks; instead I have to put away the stupid books. In the pregnancy section as well, I pick up a book and read its title, '_The best positions to conceive in,'_ well that's straight forward.

I open the book and flick through the pages, _god _curiosity is a _bitch!_ I hear someone cough behind me, and I fall over from my kneeling position from the scare as I scramble to close the book, I fall _onto_ the cart behind me and smack my back. I eventually end up lying on the floor, I close my eyes with a groan as the dull thud clicks in and my back begins to _ache._

"Fuck, I'm _so_ sorry; I really didn't mean to scare you like that." I look up and see Brendon standing over me, trying to help me sit up. He looks worried as he pulls my arms gently, easing me into a sitting position. "I'm so, _so_ sorry Ryan. Are you- were you looking at pregnancy books?" His voices changes as he picks up the book I'd been flicking through, I watch as his face contorts. "Ew Ryan! Who are you trying to get pregnant? Cause just so you know, I can't get pregnant." And I'm _thankful_ he turned this into a joke, he's smirking as he stands up and pulls me up with his free hand.

"I-" but he cuts me off before I even manage to stutter anything out.

"I know, curiosity's a _bitch_," he says furrowing his eyebrows and then smiling, I smile back and look down at my hand that he's still holding. He flushes and let's go of my hand with an apology.

"No it's okay, I don't mind," I say he looks at me and I smile, he smiles back and I _really_ want to kiss this beautiful boy in front of me. I lean forward and he smiles leaning forward and tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Ryan!" Brendon flinches, and I roll my eyes, pulling away with a sigh I look up just in time to see my boss strolling around the bookcase. "I need you on the till, Joe is absolutely _hopeless_." He looks at Brendon and looks him up and down, and then turns and walks away.

"Anyway, I've got to do the tills, maybe we could…meet up when I finish?" I ask hopeful he'll say yes.

"Yea, I'd really like that; do you want me to meet you here?" He asks, smiling brightly.

"If you want, I finish at four," I inform him, he nods and places the book in his hands into the cart with the others, and then walks with me to the tills.

"I'll see you at five to," says as he walks away backwards, looking at me, I nod.

"Okay, just look where you're goi-" I close my eyes as he knocks the book stand over and catches himself before he falls.

"I'm okay," he says, I open my eyes and I see Joe's mass of curly dark hair kneeling next to him as he picks up the books, I laugh to myself and start to serve the customers in front of me.

Five to four ticks round, and I'm not_ watching_ the clock, merely checking the time. I walk into the backroom of the shop with a sigh, and grab my coat and bag, when I return; Brendon's standing on the other side of the counter, he does that half circle wave I've now dubbed as 'Brendon's wave', I know imaginative or _what?_

"You ready?" He asks, I nod, and then put my hand up signaling 'one minute.' Then I walk off to tell my boss I'm leaving now, he says bye, and then I walk over and stand next to Brendon.

"Let's go then, wherever we're going," I say with a smile as we walk towards the door to the shop.

"I was thinking, maybe we could go to starbucks?" He says as the door closes behind us, I nod and we walk in the direction of said shop.

"What you gonna get?" He asks me; as we stand in front of the drinks menu inside starbucks.

"Errm, I might get a caramel macchiato." I say as I ponder on what size to get. "You?"

"I think I'll get an ice tea," he replies walking up to the counter and ordering. "What size do you want?" He asks, leaning back slightly to look at me, I walk up to stand next to him.

"I'll pay, I don't mind," I say but he just puts his hand in the air in dismissal and leans forward to talk to the cashier. I hear him say large and I sigh, those things cost _a lot._

"At least let me pay half," I reason, he then turns to me.

"No it's okay, seriously, you can go find us a table if you want?" He asks, I nod and walk off to find a two seater table by the window. I look around at the few other customers in there, and I start to puff my cheeks out in boredom. I check my watch as I sit there, and then I ruffle my hair, messing it up.

Brendon walks over carrying a tray; he puts my mug down, and then his cup, and then walks back over to the counter to deposit the tray. When he returns he smiles at me.

"Do you think I could get away with the 'wind swept' look?" I ask as I ruffle my hair more, Brendon laughs and nods.

"Definitely, do you think I could?" He says as he messes up his own hair, but it just kind of sticks up.

"You've got product in that, haven't you?" He nods, "yea, it's just kind of sticking up." I say with a laugh.

"Damn, I knew I shouldn't of put that mousse in my hair." He says looking down in thought.

"Mousse?" I question after taking a sip of my drink, god that tastes _so_ nice.

"Yep," he nods in affirmation. "I was wondering if it would curl, but it didn't." he confirms, and I wonder _how_ he thought his hair would curl, it's just _too _short.

"It's a bit short to curl Brendon, maybe if you get a perm…" and I stop there when his eyes widen and he looks at me smiling like an idiot.

"A perm? Do you think I should get a perm?" He asks sitting up straighter in his chair.

"No, you might end up looking like Napoleon Dynamite, no one needs that." I say with a giggle, he nods and then smiles laughing also.

"So, what you doing this week?" I ask him, as I fiddle with the handle on my mug.

"Not much, why?" He asks as he sips at his ice tea.

"Well, we haven't really been on a proper date, so I was wondering if maybe y'know you wanted to." I mumble, staring intently at my cup.

"Yea, I'd like that." He says moving his hand so it's resting on top of mine, stilling the actions of my fiddling; I look up and smile at him.

"Cool, I thought maybe we could go to a restaurant or something…" I trail off, as a blush creeps onto my cheeks.

"Yea, a restaurant sounds good, so tomorrow?" He asks eagerly.

"Alright, what time?" What is this? _Twenty questions_?

"Seven? I could come to your place, then we could go from there?" He says as I let go of the mug, and we just hold hands, then I nod.

"Alright, tomorrow seven, you know where I live?" I ask, I really don't want to mess this up by not telling him the vital things.

"Vaguely, just tell me what floor, and apartment number."

"Five, sixty-seven," he smiles and we finish our drinks talking about our plans for the week.

By the time Tuesday comes, I'm fidgeting and _really_ hormonal, I haven't been like this since Friday, hell since I was _sixteen_. Being with Brendon just seems to make me a less irrational person, but now I'm snapping at people, and Joe is _doing_ my head in.

"Ryan, I need you to restock the magazine shelf." My boss says, and god I don't even know his _name,_ he's just _my boss_.

"Hmm," I reply as I walk over to the cart containing the boxes with the magazines. I walk to the magazine section of the shop, and start to undo the boxes.

--

The third person trips over me for that day, and _god_ I'm not a happy bunny. They should really look where they're going, I'm not that small, it's not like you can't _see_ me.

After filling up the magazine rack, I take the boxes out the back of the shop, then I inspect my hands in the natural light. I look at my fingers, and they've got a lot of scrapes of them, _this_ is why I don't usually deal with the _stupid_ magazines.

I walk into the shop scowling, at my hands, as I count how many cuts are on each of my hands, three on my left hand, five on my right hand. They're like paper cuts, but not itchy, it was the cardboard that caused them.

Today seems to be _dragging,_ after re-entering the shop, I ask my boss what I have to do next, and_ thankfully_ he puts me on tills. So now I'm reading, but I can't seem to _concentrate._ The words are just fuzzy masses as I squint to see them, dropping the book onto the counter I sigh and rub my temples, I'm _so_ bored.

I spend the rest of my shift, helping and serving customers, and talking to Joe. He's not that interesting, but his hair is quite amusing, you pull it and it springs back into place, I reckon Brendon saw Joe's hair and that's why he tried to curl it.

I serve one last customer before my shift finishes, then I grab my bag and coat and _run_ back to my apartment.

Back in my apartment I shower, the warm water beating down on my skin relaxing me in seconds. I wash my hair, and then step out of the shower, turning the faucet off. I ring the excess water out of my hair, then grab a towel to wrap around my waist.

After towel drying my hair, I walk into my bedroom to choose what I'm going to wear. This may take a while. I grab my watch off the bedside cabinet, and squint at the clock face, _6:25. _I hope that's enough time.

After putting on my boxers, I walk to my closet, and open the door. I stare at all of my clothes, deciding and depicting on what to wear, sometimes I _hate_ fashion.

After about 10 minutes of deciding, I settle on pin stripe pants, and a cream button up shirt, I then put my socks on and pull out a pair of black loafers.

I then grab my staighteners, and flick them on; I grab my watch while the staighteners warm up, and do up the clasp around my right wrist. Then check the time, _6:40._

I grab my hair dryer, since I haven't got much time, and then blow dry my hair, causing it to go fluffy, _great._ Glancing at my watch again, I notice it's nearly _6:50._

I quickly straighten my hair, and then grab a stick of black eyeliner, lining my eyes lightly, I don't need panda eyes. The door bell goes, and I fidget on my way there, looking in the mirror by the door, and then nodding slightly as I know this is probably the best it's going to get.

Then I open the door, and Brendon's standing there, he smiles and does the 'Brendon's wave.'

"Hey," I say as I move over so he can enter, which he does with a smile.

"Hey, nice place," he says as he looks around, his hands planted firmly in the tight jeans his wearing, along with a grey hoodie and red striped top underneath.

"Thanks, I'll be right back, you can sit, stand, whatever." I say as I walk in the direction of the bedroom backwards, and point to the sofa and then shrug. He laughs slightly, and then I go and try to straighten my hair a little better.

After gassing myself out with hairspray- which tastes_ disgusting_ when you breathe it in- I walk back to Brendon.

"So shall we go?" I say, watching as Brendon stands up and walks over to me, while I put my jacket on.

"Yea, might as well," he grabs my hand and then pulls me out of the apartment, only just giving me enough time to lock the door.

We walk down the street holding hands, although it's a little cold out, and I've got my free hand in my pocket, he then puts his hand in his pocket, taking my hand with it. A smile etches onto my face, as his thumb strokes over mine, as we walk along.

We eventually reach a restaurant, and we're led to a booth by the back, which I'm _thankful_ for, I hate being in the middle.

I reluctantly pull my hand from Brendon's grasp as we take seats opposite each other, both of us looking around, and reading the menu, but our gazes always seem to meet, which causes us to smile and look away.

We order our food and drinks, and I find out Brendon's a vegetarian, which I think is cool. Our drinks come soon after we've ordered them, we've both ordered coke, and I can't help but _gaze_ at Brendon's lips as he drinks. _Remembering_ the feeling when we first kissed in the elevator, the tingling sensation that it left on my lips, the _passion_ and _lust_ that burst through.

I snap out of my gaze when I see Brendon's lips turn into a smirk, and _god_ I'm in _love_ with that _smirk._

"I was watching supernatural the other day," he says brightly, as he leans his elbows on the table top, I almost, _almost_ smirk and ask him if he _has_ manners, but I decide to listen to his tantalizing voice instead.

"Do you watch it," I nod. "Good, well did you see the Ground Hog episode?" I frown slightly as I think about whether I've seen it or not.

"Doesn't ring any bells, carry on anyway." I want to hear your voice, wait, is that wrong?

"Right, well, Dean kept dying, and Sam kept reliving that day. He died so many different ways, a piano fell on his head, he choked on a sausage, he got his throat ripped out by a dog, he ate a poisoned taco, he fell over in the shower, he got shot, got run over. He died _so_ many different ways it was _excellent_, really funny, 'cause he wasn't actually dead, if he actually died then that just wouldn't be funny. _But_ then Sam was like 'Trickster stop it!' and the trickster was like 'Fine, since it got boring after the first couple of hundred times,' so it was the next day, and he died." Then he took a sip from his drink.

"What? For good?"

"Yep, well no he was dead for six months, and Sam was like majorly depressed about the loss of his brother. But he's alive now, so all is good, I love that programme so much." I smiled as he sipped his drink again; I have _never_ been this confused before.

"Cool," I say as I nod.

"It was, imagine that though, someone you love, just dying like constantly. I'd hate that so much, it would be me seeing you die again, and again and again." I smirk.

"You love me?" He looks up eyes wide, as he starts to blush.

"I- no I didn't mean it like that, I meant, erm well I care about you." He managed to spit out, as he looked down

"I care about you too," he looks up and smiles, and the blush then starts to fade; he looks cute when he blushes.

After the meal we make our way back to my apartment, except this time we're not holding hands, and I _miss_ the contact, _his_ contact.

When we get to my apartment block, I press the code into the small pad, by the door to open it. And then I hold it open for Brendon, he thanks me and walks in and then waits for me. We stand side by side in front of the elevator, and I lean forward slightly to hit the call button.

"Fuck!" I gasp as I maybe, _just maybe_ jam my thumb too hard into the call button, and I end up hurting myself. I see Brendon flinch in my peripheral vision, then the door to the elevator opens, and I step in before he has a chance to say anything, he follows me in.

"What happened?" He asks once the doors are closed, and I've _carefully_ pressed the floor number button with my index finger.

"Jammed my thumb into the button," I reply as I inspect my thumb, and there's a drop of blood on it, god knows how I cut my thumb on a button, but I did.

"Let me look," he says as he grabs my wrist and gently pulls my hand over so he can see my thumb. "You need a tissue," he states as he lets go of my wrist and then digs around in the pockets of his jeans, he pulls out a packet of tissue and grabs one before shoving the packet back in his pocket and grabbing my wrist again.

"Brendon, what are you doing?" I ask as he wraps the tissue around my thumb, and then holds it in place.

"Stopping the bleeding," he replies simply as he looks at me. I laugh slightly, and he smiles. Then the elevator stops, and the doors open, and I see someone I know standing there.

"Ry!" Spencer calls as he steps into the elevator. He looks at my position, my left arm across my chest and Brendon holding onto it, why'd he stand on my right side? It'd be so much easier if he was on my left. Spencer than hugs me one armed, and I pat his back, its' all very _awkward_ cause no one knows where to put their selves, and Brendon won't let go of my wrist.

"Hey Spence," I reply as he pulls back and smiles at me. "I guess that health regime went out the window." I say chuckling as he nods.

"I nearly _died_ on those stairs, and if that happened, you'd have _no_ friends." He says still smiling.

"I've got other friends," I defend, but there's a smile on my face all the while.

"Yea, who?" Spencer continues mockingly.

"Brendon," I say as gesture to him with my head, since I'm in a tricky state.

"Hi Brendon," Spencer says, directing his attention away from me. "How much is Ryan paying you to pretend to be his friend?" He asks smirking.

"Ignore him, he's suffering withdrawal symptoms." Brendon looks at me and nods.

"From what?" Spencer questions, he looks very intrigued.

"From me," and I laugh, I laugh _a lot_, Brendon let's go of my wrist as I double over. When I've calmed down and I stand up straight, they're both just staring at me.

"Anyway, I'm Spencer," Spencer says breaking through the silence, and holding his hand out for Brendon to shake, which he does.

The elevator then pings, and the doors open at my floor, so I grab Brendon's arm and pull him out of the elevator. "Come see me sometime Spence, we haven't spoken in a while."

"Will do, nice meeting you Brendon." He replies as the doors start to close.

"You too," Brendon replies, and then we both say goodbye as the door finally closes.

"He seems nice," Brendon says as we walk towards my door, I nod in agreement, taking the tissue off my thumb and checking my thumb for any damage. Then I pull my keys from my pocket and stop at my door, and unlock it.

I motion for Brendon to walk in, and he does, I follow him and close the door, then I offer to take his jacket.

"Ooo very gentlemanly," he chuckles as I put our jackets by the door.

"I'm just gonna go get changed, make yourself comfortable," he nods and I walk off to the bedroom, where I change into pajama pants, tee shirt and an old hoodie.

I walk back out and sit next to Brendon on the couch, though the room is eerily quiet, all you can hear is the faint sound of the pipes under the floorboards.

"You know earlier when I said I cared for you?" Brendon asks looking at his lap, I nod and then turn to sit cross legged on the couch, facing him. I then make a noise in the back of my throat of affirmation since he's not looking at me.

"Well, I do like you, and if you don't like me back, then that's fine. If the whole elevator thing was just a kiss to you, then please say. I don't really know if you do stuff like that a lot, I don't, but I'm not saying that you-" and before I can stop myself I'm leaning forwards and lifting his chin up with my index finger and thumb, and then I'm kissing him, square on the lips.

I close my eyes, and then I feel the couch moving. I open my eyes and pull away to see Brendon, leaning up on his knees, craning his neck to kiss me. He smiles and looks at me.

So I lean up on my knees as well, and lean in to kiss him again, his hands move to my hips to keep our balance, mine move to his shoulders. Our chests are pretty much flush together; I can feel his heart beating, as I push my chest right against his. His tongue drags across my bottom lip, and I open my mouth, our tongues clashing, and touching and _feeling._ It feels like the_ first_ time we've ever kissed. It's even better than in the elevator because there's _care_, there's a _future_ in this.

We both pull apart panting and both with a smile plastered across our faces.

"Ryan," I look into Brendon's eyes and nod, so he'll continue. "Will you be my boyfriend?" He asks, and I _beam_.

"Yes," I reply, and then I crash our lips together again. I think he understands now, that I don't just kiss _anyone._

_Fin!_


End file.
